


Same Old Story

by Fudgyokra



Category: Shrek Series, Shrek the Third (2007)
Genre: Awkward Kissing, Frenemies, High School, Love/Hate, M/M, Tight Spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And so his name to Lancelot was Loser. At least until it wasn't." In which Lance and Artie share space in a janitor's closet. Arthur/Lancelot oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Old Story

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly never thought I’d write anything for Shrek, of all the things, but my sister asked me to do this. It seemed like a good challenge so, naturally, I accepted.

_For Madison._

It didn’t mean anything, not a damned thing.

They told each other this on so many occasions that by this point saying it seemed superfluous. This was somewhere near the tenth time that they stood together, crammed so close in the janitor’s closet that they could each feel the other’s breath on their lips. The bell would ring in just a few minutes, but this was where they chose to be. Two boys: Lancelot du Lac, a stellar jouster and an even more stellar douchebag; and Arthur Pendragon, Artie to his friends, which were nonexistent, and Loser to his enemies, which were prevalent. And so his name to Lancelot was Loser. At least until it wasn’t.

There was too much to explain in the precious little time they’d been allotted before class and heaven forbid they show up late together, so they ditched any attempts at explanation and simply acted on impulse, one pair of hands here and another pair there. Lancelot called him Arthur in their brief moment away from the eyes of the many. Arthur never questioned why the athlete bothered.

Today their excursion went the same as always, with Arthur tentatively feeling around and Lancelot insistently smothering him with open-mouthed kisses. The blond privately celebrated the fact that he got to do what practically every girl in this school dreamed of. Probably even Gwen. At that thought he let a groan slip, but Lancelot didn’t seem to register that it was anything but pleasured. Of course he would assume so, Arthur thought as he warred against the urge to roll his eyes. If there was anything Lancelot was good at, it was living in a self-assured fantasy.

The two of them fumbled around in the dim light for another minute, bumping elbows on shelves and pressing spines into broom handles. In a surge of bravery, Arthur reached up and hooked an arm around the dark haired boy’s neck to pull him down into one last kiss. His weren’t like Lancelot’s, demanding and hungry, but instead quick and chaste. What he’d done seemed to temporarily catch the other off guard.

When he came to, he scowled, “What was that for? I’m not your girlfriend, Loser.”

Ah, so they were back on Loser basis. “I don’t know, it just—it seemed like an okay thing to do,” Arthur replied, mimicking the hushed whisper in which his companion spoke. At the moment he was too preoccupied with gathering his things off the floor to clearly register the heat rising in his cheeks, but Lancelot caught on.

“What do you think I am? A queer?” he hissed.

Arthur _really_ tried not to roll his eyes, but this time it couldn’t be helped. In response, Lancelot reached up and shoved his shoulder back into the shelf behind him. He subsequently dropped his bag, sending the apple he’d packed for lunch rolling across the filthy floor. “Aw, c’mon,” he said, only to be shoved again.

“Hey, I mean it, you little shit.” Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed. Well _that_ was a new one. He must’ve really ticked the guy off to get called anything worse than Loser.

“What’s your problem?” The blond snatched Lancelot’s hands from the top of his tunic and held his wrists. He knew that the other wasn’t even putting up a fight, because there was no way he could actually be holding him still right now.

“You know this doesn’t mean anything to me.” It wasn’t a question. Lancelot took his hands back with a dramatic jerk and ended up smashing his elbow into a crate. No sooner had this happened than the jouster cursed rather loudly.

Arthur shrank back as far as he could, which really wasn’t much of a distance, before he said, “Hey, quiet, would you? We don’t want someone to hear us.” Sometimes he wondered why he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Lancelot leveled a long stare at him, eyes alight. “You wanna say that again, Loser?” At least he’d made it back to Loser again.

The blond looked at the door, then back to the boy before him. “I was just under the impression that this was a secret,” he mumbled.

Before he really had time to think he felt a clenched fist slam into his arm, sending a jolt of pain along the entire extremity. “Ow!”

“Quiet, would you?” The athlete remarked, watching as Arthur’s brows lowered over his eyes.

“Haha, very funny.”

“I know.” Lancelot grinned, and Arthur made a face at him.

“You’re such a tool.”

“Yeah, and you’re—” Before the insult could come to fruition, the bell rang. The two of them exchanged frantic glances before Lancelot resumed his usual aggressive expression. “Dead meat for making me late, Pendragon!” He forced the closet door open and hurried out, only to pause when Arthur didn’t budge. “You coming or what?”

Arthur’s mouth was a slanted line before he opened it to say, “We can’t show up late together or people will get suspicious.”

Lancelot’s surprise made it evident that he hadn’t thought of that. “So,” Arthur continued, “I’ll just show up later or something.” Then, because he still couldn’t seem to get it through his head that testing the limits of the other boy’s patience wasn’t a smart move, he added, cheekily, “See you tomorrow.”

As expected, Lancelot’s lip curled. Then he just smirked. That was enough to wipe the smug smile from Arthur’s face and replace it with a look of puzzlement.

“You’re such a dweeb,” the taller of them said with a laugh. It didn’t sound like an insult. Arthur didn’t know what to say, but luckily Lancelot had him covered on that front. “The team would kick my ass if I showed up with you. Thanks for the tip, Artie. But don’t think this means I like you or anything.”

With that he was off in a sprint, hair flying, boots tapping. This left the blond behind to stare down the expanse of the empty hall with wide eyes.

_He called me Artie_ , he thought dumbly. It stuck in his head like a song, making him feel like he was in an alternate universe. Where else would a hot jousting captain call him Artie and thank him for being nice?

Lancelot would be back to heckling him with his jerk friends after class, anyway.  That was their main source of entertainment and since the only thing going on today was the contest for the new school mascot, they’d all be stuck in the gym together, to boot. Arthur could only imagine how much he’d have to deal with then. Same old same old, he guessed.

He’d come to expect nothing less.


End file.
